


Hikaru's Fan Club

by katmarajade



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fan Club, Gen, Humor, Post - Star Trek XI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1329103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Narada Incident, Hikaru discovers that he has his own fan club-- and that it's all Kirk's fault!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hikaru's Fan Club

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the second annual Sulu-Off

It all started about a month after the Narada incident, about three weeks after they'd returned to Earth, about two weeks after Jim "Story-Teller-Extraordinaire" Kirk gave his first public interview, about a week after Kirk's face was plastered on the cover of every publication on the planet.

Sulu hadn't bothered to read it. He had been there for most of it and didn't feel a strong need to relive that particular mission.

His first clue that something was going on was when he was walking back from the market, a bottle of soy milk in one hand and a bag full of fresh produce and potato chips in the other. A teenage girl darted out in front of him, waved her communicator in the air in front of him, and gave one of those warbling high-pitched squeals that he, being the older brother to three sisters, was unfortunately all too familiar with.

One eyebrow lifted, he stared after the girl with non-plussed amusement. Three minutes later he could have sworn that he saw his face on the shirt of another girl. He shook his head in chagrin, feeling silly to have imagined such an egotistical sort of thing. It was probably the face of some new pop star.

He got back to his Starfleet-issued set of rooms, dropped his produce in the kitchenette, and glanced at the message board. A red light blinked indicating a Starfleet message, which he opened up expecting a return summons or an update on the state of the Enterprise or a notification that he actually had to complete those final exams after all.

Instead it simply told him that he had mail at the Starfleet Postal Center. Most mail was sent via communicators or via holo-messaging, so he wondered briefly who was sending him physical mail. He expected a small note card from his grandmother or a notification of pending punitive measures from a commanding officer about his failure to obey direct orders from his captain when he'd piloted the flagship back into hostile territory to attempt a rescue mission.

However, when he showed his credentials to claim his piece of mail, the bored-looking receptionist raised an eyebrow.

"Hope you brought a cart," she muttered before heading to the back room. Sulu stared after her in confusion.

A moment later she returned dragging an enormous canvas bag, a bag so large that she could not lift it, a bag so large that she could barely pull it.

"What on God's green earth is that?" Sulu asked, looking at the sack warily.

"Your fan mail, Lieutenant," she retorted snippily, pushing the bag in front of her desk and going back to her poorly-hidden word puzzle.

Sulu sat in one of the lobby chairs and glanced through the bag. There were letters. Old, paper letters. Letters with his name on them! And pink hearts and glitter.

With dismay, he read through a few of them. There were letters praising his skill with a sword, letters lauding his bravery, letters offering marriage, letters filled with sexually explicit invitations. There were letters from teenage girls—complete with hearts and sparkles. There were letters from lonely housewives offering up romantic, sex-filled getaways in condos in South America. There were gifts of locks of hair and teeny tiny panties. There were offers to bear his children. There were embarrassingly graphic letters from elderly women, including one offer of a retirement home threesome that elicited a strange, horrified garbling sound from him and a glare from the preoccupied receptionist.

He shoved the letters back in the bag and stomped up to the desk with a determined, grim expression.

"Where did these come from?" he demanded.

"All over, I imagine," she said, not looking up from her puzzle.

"Why? Why are they here?" he continued, an edge of hysteria to his voice.

The receptionist finally looked up. "I would assume that they're excited about your big sword and the space jumping thing and how you single-handedly saved the incredible Kirk from a vicious Romulan. And then how you piloted the sole remaining Narada survivors, including the Vulcan High Council, to safety, barely escaping a black hole."

"Wait! What?"

"Hey, you were there. You know best. I am only saying what I read in Starstruck Weekly. That interview with Captain Kirk. Now, if you ask me, he is gorgeous. Are you two still good friends? I mean, do you know if he's single?" she eyed him eagerly, suddenly all smiles at the thought that he might be her link to the golden boy of Starfleet.

"Oh my … " Sulu shook his head in disbelief and walked away, leaving the large bag of letters behind. He kept walking until he hit the officers' quarters. With grim determination, he stalked over to room 317 and began pounding steadily against the metal door.

Kirk opened the door and had the audacity to look surprised to see him.

"Sulu!" he exclaimed, the now-famous lazy grin tickling his cheeks.

"Kirk," Sulu growled. Kirk smirked at the hostile tone, clearly unfazed, and invited him in. He listened with undisguised glee as Sulu described his predicament.

"It's not funny!"

"It's hilarious," Kirk countered.

"I have a fan club!" Sulu yelled, trying valiantly to keep from stomping his feet like a small child.

"They love you! That's awesome, Sulu! You're a total bad-ass—you totally should have a fan club," Kirk declares adamantly. Sulu shot him a withering stare.

"They have t-shirts, Kirk. They have t-shirts with my face on them. And old ladies are inviting me to orgies. This is not okay."

"It's hard being awesome, Sulu," Kirk replied seriously, as if he were offering some sort of sage advice.  
Sulu sighed and leaned back into the cozy couch that Kirk's high rank afforded him. This was all Kirk's fault, after all. If he were going to be subjected to fangirls of all ages, he may as well get something out of it. Lounging around in luxurious officers' quarters was sounding better and better. Sulu explained his new plan to a suddenly dismayed Kirk and smirked at the floundering reaction. Yes, this would work out just fine.


End file.
